


Give Him A Chance

by a_prouvaire



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Existential Crisis, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 01:54:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30014322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_prouvaire/pseuds/a_prouvaire
Summary: Enjolras is going through an existential crisis after the truth about Grantaire's past unraveled. Combeferre and Courfeyrac are there to help him.“It’s a simple rule of psychology. Us versus them. I agree with Ferre.”Enjolras looked up again only to see Courfeyrac standing in the doorway with a tray full of coffee mugs and biscuits.“Let’s dive into the delightful world of political views and beliefs together. No one should have an existential crisis alone.”
Kudos: 6





	Give Him A Chance

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! It's my first attempt to write a fanfic in English as it's not my first language.  
> I really wanted to get this writing idea out there, since it's been spinning in my head for a long time. However, I am not sure about the language.  
> I'd appreciate any comments or remarks because feedback makes us better, right?  
> Anyway, I hope you'll have a good time reading this. If not, have a nice day too!

**_GIVE HIM A CHANCE_ **

****

Enjolras didn't believe in second chances. As fierce and unapologetic he could seem, it did not matter to him what the intention was, it mattered what the person did. Of course, there were some exceptions in his rule, but only a few.

Grantaire was an exception because he was given a dozen of second chances, and never tried to live up to expectations. Enjolras was truly fed up with him.

“Why would you bring him here in the first place if you are so annoyed with him right now?” Combeferre once asked while cleaning the room after another meeting. Enjolras just finished lashing out about how frustrating and denying Grantaire was today.

“I believed in him,” Enjolras simply answered, intentionally not looking at his best friend, swirling a remote controller in his fingers.

“You saw something, right? Something no one could see first.”

“I guess. People change though, Grantaire is just not willing to.”

“Do you even know his life story to judge?”

“I don’t need to. If he did want to make himself and his life better, he would have already done it.”

Enjolras did knew some life story of Grantaire though. He knew the man, now in his late twenties, grew up in a shitty neighborhood in a small southern town. He knew he fled away to Paris searching for a better life. He knew he worked three jobs, barely having time to sleep. And Enjolras admired him first, but then… Grantaire denied everything Enjolras would offer, but he would still come to their meetings. He still would sit in the back of the room sipping his wine and talking louder and louder with every glass he drank until it was unbearable to cope with.

“What if I told you, I know some information about Grantaire you would never imagine to be true?” Courfeyrac once asked when they were heading home from their International Law lecture.

“Surprise me,” Enjolras hummed, scrolling through the comments on Les Amis’ Instagram account.

“Once he was a part of another political group. Back in the 2010s.”

“Excuse me?” Enjolras looked up from his phone, his eyebrow arching.

“Yeah. More than that, he was a second-in-command. Wait, I’ll show you,” Courfeyrac snatched Enjolras’ phone from his hand, typing something in a search bar and then proudly turning the phone for Enjolras to see.

There was a video. A wild rally. First Enjolras was mesmerized by a large crowd shouting and waving their signs. He immediately recognized the setting. It was 2016. When all of them were still in high school and were not allowed to go anywhere out of their parents’ sight, but they were watching protests unraveling on TV. Second, he saw _him._ Right in the middle, on the top of a police car, a man was standing. His wild curly hair waving in the wind, his hand clutching a French flag and a sign. He was shouting a slogan on top of his lungs to the police officer, smirking like a mad man after.

“It’s Grantaire?”

He was definitely younger, maybe around twenty-two or twenty-three years old. His face lit up with anger, and Enjolras could see, as though in a mirror reflection, how injustice was bringing pain to the man full of righteous indignation.

“I don’t understand,” Enjolras furrowed looking up from his phone. “What happened to turn him into a nihilistic cynical person as he is right now? He was ready to fight that policeman for his truth. What…”

“His best friend died that day. A major clash with the police force. The crowd started panicking, and the man was just trapped underneath.”

Enjolras bit his lower lip hard. He felt his head spinning. He knew something was out with Grantaire, something did not match. But the truth was much worse than his wildest assumptions.

“And he stopped believing?”

“Nothing came out of the rally as you know. Nothing much at least. Imagine me or Combeferre dying during the rally with no outcome. What would you feel?”

“Anger,” Enjolras let out without hesitation. “Anger and the desire of revenge. But I would never betray my beliefs. Death is…”

He felt Courfeyrac’s hand resting on his shoulder and stopped walking. He looked up to see a gloomy expression on his usually cheerful face.

“Stop judging people by your own standards, Enjolras. It’s no use.”

Enjolras narrowed his eyes. His glare was still piercing, but slowly the fire left his eyes, instead of it, a cold realization came.

“I wanted for him to believe in us, in our power to change this country. Once I said to him that it didn’t matter if we died in a fire if it meant that the world would light up.”

“I think you owe him an apology.”

Enjolras’ world was not crashing, but it definitely shattered. He missed their next meeting knowing he could not bring himself to look Grantaire in the eye. He needed time to think everything over.

First, he found every bit of Grantaire participating in the rallies and protests online. It was so obvious, Enjolras was shaken. For million times he saw those videos, but somehow never noticed Grantaire’s face. As though he was intentionally hiding from him, even in the past.

The best friend that died was a leader of that radical group. Grantaire was the one who started the unrest and broke the peace. He was the one who threw a Molotov cocktail into the police line and caused them to fight back. And somehow Enjolras knew he would do the same.

 _Imagine me or Combeferre dying during the rally with no outcome. What would you feel?_ Imagine you were the one who caused it.

“I feel sick.”

Enjolras was lying on his bed, a laptop and a pack of cigarettes by his side. He could not even bring himself to properly answer the phone pressing the button and putting Jehan on speaker.

“I know how you sound when you are sick. There is something else. Don’t lie to me.”

“I am not lying. I just need some time alone.”

“It’s been two weeks, Enjolras. You would never let yourself fall out for such a long time. Do you need anything?”

“No… Yes.”

“What?”

“Can Grantaire visit me tonight?”

“Mhm… Okay,” Jehan’s voice sounded puzzled and intrigued at the same time. “I’ll send him a message, but it’s up to him.”

Enjolras spent the rest of his day in bed. By this point he couldn’t watch those videos and read the posts anymore, so he was just lying and reading his textbooks. He wasn’t depressed, as he told himself. As long as he was doing his exam preparation, he was not falling out of life.

The evening came faster than expected. As the last sun rays pierced through the window, the doorbell disturbed the complete silence of Enjolras’ apartment causing him to get up. He heard Combeferre opening the front door and a muffled sound of distant voices, and he came out of his room.

He knew he did not look like himself. Maybe it was what caused Grantaire to stop in the middle of the hall staring at him. Maybe it was the fact that Enjolras invited him to his flat for the first time in years.

“Come in,” he pointed towards the kitchen.

“Whatever you are up to, don’t be a jerk,” Courfeyrac whispered as Enjolras passed by him. Enjolras gave him a nod and headed towards the kitchen.

“You look like shit,” Grantaire informed already leaning to the windowsill as Enjolras entered.

“I am aware,” Enjolras made a beeline to the kettle, avoiding the gaze Grantaire was giving him.

“What am I here for?”

“Let me make coffee first.”

“Am I allowed to smoke?”

Enjolras shrugged waving his hand. He was not bothered by cigarette smoke any more, not after the third pack he had in two days.

The next few moments they spent in complete silence. They heard Combeferre and Courfeyrac whispering in another room but mutually decided not to pay any attention.

“So, why so cynic?” Enjolras asked, giving Grantaire a mug full of steaming coffee and leaning to the wall next to him.

“Why so idealistic?”

Enjolras hummed making a sip and snatched a cigarette out of Grantaire’s hand.

“Are you afraid of us dying?” he inhaled the smoke, returning the cigarette. Grantaire furrowed, looking at him through the fog, his eyes focused.

“No. I am afraid of you causing deaths.”

Enjolras’ bravado was washed away immediately, but he concentrated on not showing it yet.

“First time we met, you asked me what I am doing it for. Do you remember what I answered?”

“Yes, because you believe in change. No matter how high the price might be.”

“I was wrong.”

Grantaire immediately had the most amused expression on his face. As though someone said to him that the moon was no other than just a circle painted on the black canvas of the sky.

“Never thought I would hear you saying it, Apollo.”

“Never thought I would say it.”

“What made you change your mind?” Grantaire turned his gaze away.

“A man wiser than me,” Enjolras answered, exhaling a puff of smoke again. It was his turn now to focus on Grantaire. He was seemingly older. The bags under his eyes were dark and deep. He was only twenty-eight, but a few wrinkles already carved his face. And Enjolras could even see silver in his curly dark hair.

“A man who went through something I have always wanted to go through. And he saw the outcome, he saw what a mindless desire to violate could bring. And he never sought revenge because he realized what the main thing in life is.”

“And what is it?” Grantaire asked with a hoarse voice.

“To be kind.”

“Excuse me?”

“To be kind and nurturing. To build, not to destroy. To make little stops towards the goal, not to wish for it to be fulfilled overnight.”

“You are wrong. You are talking about me, aren’t you?”

Enjolras didn’t answer, he just silently made another sip.

“I do not believe in these things. I do not believe that being sane and kind and nurturing will help this world to become a better place. Nothing will ever change it. Doesn’t matter how hard you try. It’s within human nature to destroy, to leave ruins behind, to flood the world with blood and greediness and pain. Nothing is going to change it.”

Enjolras gulped staring into Grantaire’s brown eyes, which were so dark and deep it could be compared to the black hole sucking every light around itself.

“You think I was like you. Yes, maybe someday I was. But you wronged the lesson I learned. Violence brings violence, yes. It’s not the way to live or the way to die. However, by the kindness and nurturing you will not achieve your global goals either. You can only change a few lives.” 

“What’s wrong with changing even a few lives?”

“Nothing. That’s why you need to stop thinking of changing things you have no power onto. Instead, give your time to those who need you.”

Enjolras sunk his teeth into the lower lip and turned around.

“I just want you to know that it was not your fault Louis had died.”

“It was, Enjolras. Just don’t repeat my mistakes.”

The next day he woke up at five in the morning. He cleaned his room, threw away the last pack of cigarettes, and had his first shower in a few days. Seemingly things should have become better, but yet he didn’t know where to start. The words Grantaire said were on a repeat in his head like an annoying song.

He made the first step, he came out of his apartment, took coffee out from the local shop, and headed towards the university. Yet he didn’t know what to do next. His world was collapsing, with every new minute. It needed to collapse in order to become a new one.

“What was the phrase Robespierre said in 1791 which is truly reflecting his main vision of the life after Revolution?” a professor of History asked. “Enjolras?”

“True religion consists in punishing for the happiness of all, those who disturb society.”

“Do you agree with an expression, Enjolras?”

A week ago, Enjolras would have said “yes” without even doubting himself being right. Right now, he was staring at his professor, his brows knit together, his mouth pressed into a thin white line.

“We all know he basically worships Robespierre! Of course, he agrees!” a crackled voice declared in the first row, and a few others chuckled supporting.

“No, I do not,” Enjolras said quietly, and then louder: “I do not agree! Human life is worth more than the happiness of all. The freedom of one stops where another's begins.”

The silence laid upon the auditorium. Enjolras felt a few gazes on his face and the back of his neck, but he did not care. He was as shocked as others and felt the cold feeling swirling under his chest.

“May I be excused, professor?”

“Of course,” the professor nodded, being visibly amused. As though he believed that it was him who changed Enjolras’ beliefs.

Enjolras got up quickly, gathered his belongings, and left the auditorium before anyone could say another word.

“What are you doing?” Combeferre entered his room.

“Sorting out my books,” Enjolras answered simply putting aside another book. He was sitting on the floor. Around him were a few piles, one is higher than another. All of them marked by colorful sticky notes.

“What for?”

“Those are for the university library,” he waved his hand at the smaller pile. “Those are for you or any friends who would like to take them. Those are for staying with me.”

“Are you going to move out, or what?”

“Not exactly,” Enjolras opened one of Robespierre’s books, and disgust flickered in his eyes before he threw it into the library pile.

“Enjolras,” Combeferre sat on the floor across his best friend. “These books are just books, having them does not make you a good or a bad person.”

“They do,” Enjolras snapped. “They made me a person who I am now. They made me believe I was right, and others were wrong. Robespierre, Diderot, and others were so longing for blood and led by greed that…”

“They believed in what they were saying because it was their time. Their life experience. Their vision. They had not seen as much as people in the 20th century. As you had not seen as much as Grantaire. It doesn’t make you worse, it makes you human. It’s within our nature to learn.”

“Grantaire doesn’t think so.”

“So, _Grantaire_ is the authority for you now?”

Enjolras stopped right there, a heavy book still in his hand. He looked up, watching Combeferre intently.

“No, he isn’t, but…” 

“I am not defending your radical side and your desire to be violent. I do not support it, and you know it. But learning from other people’s experiences is wise. You should not agree with them, you should not be alike, but knowing what they had to say is vital for your personal growth. Only by comparing yourself with them, you can define yourself as a person.”

“It’s a simple rule of psychology. Us versus them. I agree with Ferre.”

Enjolras looked up again only to see Courfeyrac standing in the doorway with a tray full of coffee mugs and biscuits.

“Let’s dive into the delightful world of political views and beliefs together. No one should have an existential crisis alone.”

“We need to change our agenda.”

Enjolras was standing in front of the room, and as they announced his intentions, the whole group went silent.

“We should not plan any violent or dangerous actions during the rallies anymore. As I realized it wouldn’t do any good to any of us, and we will not achieve our goal to be heard that way.”

He met Grantaire’s gaze for a second, and he couldn’t quite figure out what emotions were in the other man’s eyes, it was impossible to read.

“Were we even planning to do this in the first place?” Jehan asked slowly as if he was just realizing what he got himself into.

“Nothing much. But we had an agreement that if police chose to solve the situation by force and strength, we would not hesitate to answer them the same way.”

“What made you change your mind?” Bossuet asked.

“Analysis. A lot of us were too young to participate in the earlier riots, and we might not have realized before what our actions could result in…”

“I was there,” Bahorel’s voice boomed over others. “It was not a beautiful picture in any sense, but it was efficient.”

“Efficient how?” Grantaire finally let himself be heard, and the whole room went silent. Courfeyrac definitely told everyone else about Grantaire, because right now they all chose not to speak up.

“It’s not efficient. All it brings is loss and failure. If we are going to be taken seriously, we should…” Enjolras was interrupted by Grantaire’s shriek of surprise. He looked up almost immediately, locking his eyes with an artist.

“I should mark this day as a bank holiday on my calendar! Enjolras came to his senses!”

It was not the reaction Enjolras expected. He was not even sure what he was waiting for at all, but obviously, not another sarcastic comment. His fingers turned into a fist, his nails digging deeply into his palm.

“Can I finish my thought, please?” Enjolras scanned the room with his heavy glare. “Thank you. As I was saying, we will still be going to protests, but we need to make sure that it will pass peacefully and sanely. We should not fall victim to any kind of provocations. Within our group, we need to form a sort of security team who will make sure we all are getting out safe and sound.”

“Sounds sane,” hummed Joly, raising his glass.

“Agreed,” Bahorel nodded. “I can help out and find some guys to back us up.”

“Thank you, Bahorel,” Enjolras nodded. “You are doing enough for this group as the coordinator of promotion. I think we have another man here who could fit this job perfectly.” Grantaire’s head jolted up from something he was drawing on a napkin. Enjolras gave him a small smile and arched his brow.

“Would you mind accepting an offer, Grantaire?”

“Ain't I unworthy of anything as you said? Incapable of living or dying?”

“Drop it, Grantaire. It was long before we knew anything about you.”

“Oh yeah? And how does it change things? I stepped back from my beliefs. I decided to leave and not to fight.”

“You came back. It’s worth more than anything. You just don’t realize how much you can help.”

“Oh, I do realize, Enjolras. But I am not willing to be dragged back into this pile of horseshit.” Enjolras let out a frustrated huff and rolled his eyes, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“Hah, come on. I am just messing with you. Of course, I accept an offer,” Grantaire grinned widely, eyeing Enjolras jokingly. And as he looked up, the whole room burst into cheers.

“Welcome to the actual team!” Courfeyrac exclaimed. “So, guys, it’s my turn to speak. We need to plan our new nonviolent and peaceful agenda out.”

Things were getting better for Enjolras, but he and Grantaire were still ignoring each other outside of the meetings. No one knew why. During their gatherings, the two of them were getting along pretty well, but once they were out, without their friends around them, it was getting awkward.

“You know, I think if we get to know each other better, we’d agree on a lot of things,” Grantaire commented once they were outside smoking, while others were ordering the first round of drinks in the bar called Corinth.

Enjolras had a hard week and decided to have a quick smoke to calm his nerves a bit.

“What made you think so?”

“Since you get on your holy road to change your views, there are a lot of things you still need to find out.”

“Do you see yourself as my mentor now?” Enjolras’ brow arched as he let out a puff of smoke.

“I wouldn’t dare, Apollo,” Grantaire theatrically gasped, and Enjolras even chuckled at the sight of his facial expression.

“So, what now?”

“You know, out of us two, Louis was a bookworm. He left a lot of books behind, and I read them all twice by now. Would you like to have them? There are some valuable thoughts you might like.”

“You think, I don’t already have some?”

“When we came to your book garage sale, there weren’t any of such kind. So, you’d like to have them or not?”

“Don’t they carry some significance for you? As they belonged to your best friend?”

“They are just books, Enjolras. I have something more special than them.” 

“For example?”

“Memories,” Grantaire smirked grimly, putting out his cigarette. “You can take them tomorrow night, at my place. I am not willing to carry such weight to your apartment.”

And with those words he left, entering the bar. Once the door was closed, cutting loud laughter, and chatting from Enjolras’ hearing, he leaned his head to the wall, closing his eyes. He tried. He really tried to seem older and wiser and more capable of leading than he was. He was only twenty-one years old, and everybody around kept mentioning it to him. He was pretty aware of his charisma and ability to persuade, but he was scared it was the only reason people would follow him. And it seemed as though Grantaire could see right through him.

“What are you doing here all alone?”

Combeferre was looking at him with concern.

“I think I need to go home.”

“Enjolras, not one of your self-deprecating moments again.”

“No, it’s not like that. Just… I need some time to read more. To prepare for our next workshop.”

“You have read enough for this week. And for the record, it’s me saying these words, not Courfeyrac. Let yourself rest.”

“Why would they choose me for their leader? I am much younger than them, I still don’t know a lot of things. I don’t have enough experience or…”

“I’ll stop you right there,” Combeferre came closer, covering Enjolras’ shoulder with his hand. “It’s not about the age. It’s about being a leader. We all are good at a lot of things. Bahorel’s at promotion. Feuilly’s at designs. Courfeyrac’s at organizing and arranging important meetings for us. And I could go on, but you. You think wider than us. More global. That’s what makes you a great leader. You see things bigger than us and can predict consequences. Even with your own views. You realized you were wrong faster than any other person would be able to.”

“Grantaire did it for me.”

“No, Grantaire just lives his life as he thinks right. You just learned from his experience and made your own choices. But you won’t be a great leader if you are not close with those you lead. If you don’t know much about them. How many informal gatherings have you visited for the last year?”

“Christmas party.”

“Yeah, and got so drunk so fast, you were incapable of talking to anyone.”

Enjolras huffed, running his fingers through the blond locks.

“We should be a team. A few days ago, you announced a pretty big thing. We are planning an enormous agenda for the next six months. Take your time to build relationships with people who will have your back. And don’t be afraid of Grantaire. He means no harm to you.”

“Are you on his side now?”

“I am always on your side, Enjolras,” Combeferre said solemnly. “We all are. Even Grantaire.”

Enjolras nodded letting out a heavy sigh. Maybe he did need to be with his friends right now. In the end, they were people who would go through any existential crisis he would ever have.


End file.
